


Time to Say Goodbye

by UselessLesbianLaughter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/F, Funeral, Grief/Mourning, Illness, Sad, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessLesbianLaughter/pseuds/UselessLesbianLaughter
Summary: Emma Swan has lived a good life with her wife, Regina Mills. But after many long and beautiful years, her life succumbs to an illness. She leaves behind instructions for her funeral and Regina fulfills her wishes in a beautiful ceremony. In the years to come, she and Henry and Emma's parents have to live with grief, learn to live on while keeping Emma's memory alive.





	Time to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, loves, this one might be a tearjerker.

_“Regina, you have to listen to me carefully,” Emma said. Regina took her hand. Both hands were wrinkled, veins showing clearly through the skin, yet soft and gentle. Regina’s eyes looked the same as they had three decades ago when they first met, only softer now, and loving._

_“I’m listening, dear.”_

_“They gave me three months. I haven’t got much left.” Emma allowed the gravity of her words to set in. Regina gave her hand an affirming squeeze._

_“Then I won’t miss a second of it.” She smiled, a sadness in her eyes that crow’s feet had formed around from years of smiling and laughter._

 “Mom, it’s time,” Henry called out. He’d grown into a fine man, in his 40s now, he’d built a good life for himself.

 Regina nodded, smiled bitterly and followed her son.

 Emma had left behind instructions. No guesswork was involved in the planning of this funeral. She picked up Emma’s body, carefully wrapped in a white sheet, eyes closed, now limp and cold though not as cold as she’d expected, carrying her the way Emma had carried her on their wedding day. She knelt at the hole Henry and David had dug together and lowered her body to the very bottom, into an open wicker casket.

 She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. It belonged to Henry who knelt down next to her, placing a small bouquet of flowers in his late mother’s arms, neatly crossed over her chest.  Regina wrapped her arms around him, sharing a tight embrace as tears rolled down their cheeks.

 Snow was weeping into David’s shoulder who had his arm wrapped around her.

 Both Regina and Henry stood up. They each dropped a handful of dirt into the grave. There was a long row of people to do that after them but the crowd kept their distance. Emma had meant a lot to everyone in this small town, both those who’d chosen to stay and those who’d come back from various kingdoms to say their goodbyes, but to none as much as Regina and Henry, Mary Margaret and David. A wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend, she was beloved.

 Finally, when the grave had been filled with dirt, Regina walked back to her, again kneeling down, dropping a seed into the ground, brushing her hand over the soil, a cloud of purple magic twirling around it as a bush of dark pink roses grew and bloomed. She wiped a tear off her cheek and allowed it to drop into the soil, it’d water the plant for centuries to come.

 It was time for the only thing Emma couldn’t have given her before she went. The speech, the eulogy everyone expected her to present as she was barely holding down loud sobs.

 She straightened her back and dug out a crumpled piece of paper as the town’s residents crowded around her and the grave. She cleared her throat, hesitant. Henry stood next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. Mary Margaret smiled at her sadly and nodded.

 “Emma Swan was the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever known. She is very beloved, even now that she’s gone. Emma was my partner in life. She was a wonderful mother to our son and a wonderful daughter to her parents.

 Emma was not the type of person that could ever be forgotten. Her memory will live on within us all and her legacy will carry on through the ages.

 It may seem selfish to want more time but 62 years simply wasn’t enough. She was taken from us too soon. But truth be told, 72 wouldn’t be enough, or 82, or 92 or 200.”

 She took a break to breathe.

 “Emma was taken by from us by a horrible illness. Don’t get me wrong, Emma Swan was stubborn as hell and she did not go down without a fight. One day she sat me down and told me she had something important to tell me. I took her hand and she told me that the doctors had given her three months to live. And I told her that I wouldn’t miss a second of those three months.”

 She took a deep breath, her eyes had turned into a deep well of sadness. She continued.

 “And in exactly 90 days, three months, her condition took a turn for the worst. I stood by her bedside and I was completely shocked. Because even though it’d happened right before my eyes, I hadn’t expected her to look so different. She was pale, barely breathing, and she told me she loved me and always wanted me to know that. I told her I loved her and that it was okay to go now, that she could stop fighting and she closed her eyes and I knew in that moment that she was going to die. And despite how broken I was, I was still so glad I got to say a proper goodbye. I think I fell asleep by her bedside, on the floor, that night.”

“ She paused for a sad smile.

And in the morning, she was gone. But she wasn’t dead. Oh no, Emma Swan would not go that easily. She was gone from the bed, in the kitchen, making pancakes. That woman lived another six months. That’s how stubborn Emma Swan was.”

 Henry was the first to laugh. It started off quietly and grew a bit bolder, giving permission to everyone else gathered to chuckle as well. When the laughter died down, Regina continued.

 “Emma did hate being sick. She hated having the limitations the illness set her. And even though her death has broken my heart into a million little pieces, I still love her and I’m glad to know she’s finally free from everything holding her back.

 But it’s hard to say goodbye, still, that’s why I made sure my eulogy was as long as possible.”

 Another small laugh from the crowd.

 “There’s this myth from the Middle Ages, the undead coming back to life to haunt people was sort of a trend at the time and there’s a myth of a kindly baker who came back from the dead to help his wife knead the dough. Which might not be the best idea.”

 Even Mary Margaret let out a chuckle this time with everyone else.  

 “And I keep picturing that. I keep imagining that she’s just going to show up in the kitchen doorway, and she’s come back to help me,” she took a second to suppress a sob, “knead the dough. And she can stand on her feet with ease again and somehow she’s dug out that red leather jacket of hers again and we get to say goodbye once more.

 But Emma is not coming back to life. Definitely not to help me knead the dough. But she can live on in our memories and the stories we tell of her and that way, she’ll never really die. So thank you, for keeping her memory alive.

May she rest in peace.”

 She took a step back, folding the paper and putting it back into her pocket. Her lips curled upwards in yet another sad smile. Her cheeks were soaked with tears but she hadn’t let go yet. When she got home, she’d allow the sobs to wreak havoc over her body but not yet.

 The post-funeral reception was peaceful. It was held at Granny’s, music played, music Emma had chosen. Regina brought an apple pie. It looked almost like a regular potluck.

 Regina left early, though, after all, Emma had never told her not to. When she got home, she was ready to break down crying. Instead, she found Zelena waiting for her in the living room.

 “What are you doing here?” she asked.

 “Supporting. I’m sorry about Emma. I know you really loved her,” Zelena paused almost awkwardly, “look, I’m not necessarily good at this but I want to be there for you. I don’t really know what to say but do you want to talk about it?”

 “What’s there to talk about?” Regina scoffed.

 “I liked your eulogy. Let’s talk about all the things that made Emma Emma. Let’s talk about what she did and what she meant to you. If you want to talk. I can leave right now if you want to be alone but I’ll come back tomorrow. If you need me to do anything, cook, clean, you know, the maid’s duties, don’t hesitate, okay?”

 “That’s sweet of you. Thank you. But I’d rather be left alone tonight.”

 “I understand.” Instead of disappearing in a cloud of green magic, she respectfully walked out the front door, carefully closing it behind her.

 Regina sat down and sighed. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

 

 But time moved on despite that. Grief was never linear. It wasn’t the 5-step program advertised. It was a complex process that never really went away, it just got easier with time. Some nights she did cry, loudly sobbing into a pillow. Zelena made sure that she didn’t stop eating. Henry spent more time in town with his mother, they talked, they grieved together and looked at photo albums from times gone by, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying.

 She visited Emma’s grave frequently, each time she brought a fold-up chair with her so she could sit next to the grave and sometimes she’d sit there in silence and sometimes she’d talk and the light cascaded down upon the rose bush beautifully. She understood why Emma had wanted to be buried there, it was a beautiful place.

 After all those years, she was supporting Snow instead of condemning her. They had tea on Tuesdays now, every Tuesday at 1PM sharp. They talked and remembered Emma and what she’d been like.

 They continued that tradition for three decades until Regina was no longer able to attend. She was buried next to her wife, choosing a natural burial as Emma had, and a dark red rose bush was planted on her grave. And three decades later, the sun still cascaded gorgeously upon the plants that never died and bloomed brighter every spring for years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> First I'd like to say I'm a feedback vampire and please feed me feedback, I'm starving and I'm so grateful for every comment I get.
> 
> I tagged it as angst so it could be found but honestly, I don't like to think of this fic was angst. It's supposed to promote a death positive message. If you take anything away from this short fic, I hope that it's the useful nature of having a death plan and taking care of your loved ones even from beyond the grave as well as making sure your own wishes are met. I am an advocate for natural burial and the good death and I just encourage you to have those conversations with your loved ones and make a death plan and confront your own mortality. And when you're helping someone through grief, remember that there's never a deadline and that grief never truly goes away.
> 
> I'd love to spark a discussion here. What's your idea of a good death? What kind of funeral would you like?  
> As well as overall feedback on the story, of course.
> 
> I got the inspiration for this fic from watching Caitlin Doughty's videos on YouTube, her channel's name is Ask A Mortician and I highly recommend her videos and her books.


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